Chapter 27: A Great Disaster

Chapter 27.
A Great Disaster

Beginning to collect for a Great Chapel—The Surrey Gardens Music Hall—Engaged for Spurgeon's Services—Scene in the Building and Grounds—A Panic—Accounts by various Spectators—The Killed and Wounded—Effect on the Preacher.

At the best Exeter Hall was not a very conveniently situated place for a congregation which had its home on the south side of the river; and, apart from that, the proprietors of the hall were not willing to have the place too regularly occupied by a congregation representing one denomination. To other objections, Mr. Spurgeon himself might have added that of the building not being large enough. The great room was densely crowded on every occasion of a service being held in it, and had it been twice the size it would still have been too small. On Michaelmas-day, 1856, a meeting was held in New Park Street Chapel to initiate the scheme for the erection of what we find already spoken of as "the largest chapel in the world." Drs. Leask and Fletcher, Counsellor Payne and George Moore, were among the notables present in addition to Mr. Spurgeon himself, and very liberal contributions were promised. This "mammoth undertaking" now began to excite increasing interest, and this first meeting was densely crowded.

Hence, looking at things all round, a crisis appeared to have come on, and a crisis of a kind which neither Mr. Spurgeon nor his friends well knew how to deal with. London seemed to be so aroused by the simple preaching of the Gospel, that the largest buildings in the town were too small to accommodate the throngs who wished to hear. Exeter Hall itself was one of the most spacious rooms that could be obtained; but if that was not available for any lengthened period, what was to be done in the meantime?

Persons of an ardent, go-ahead temperament might advocate the immediate erection of a building worthy of the occasion, but that would need a large sum of money, and, even if the needful funds were available, the mere building of such a chapel would require some considerable time. Was it not possible to make some temporary arrangement which would enable the popular young preacher still to give his message to the multitude?

It so happened that just about that time a building capable of receiving an audience of some ten or twelve thousand persons was erected. This was the Music Hall in the Royal Surrey Gardens, and of which the musical conductor, M. Jullien, was the presiding genius. There was, indeed, a strange kind of connection between Exeter Hall and the popular recreation ground at Walworth, but of this many were probably not aware. When the wild beasts were taken away from old Exeter Change, and gave place to the present Exeter Hall, they for a time found a home at the King's Mews, Charing Cross, whence they afterwards found their way to what had been the gardens of the Manor House at Walworth. There they were housed in a great round conservatory, the whole being under the management of the proprietor, Edward Cross. Fireworks and panoramic pictures were afterwards added to the attractions, and at last, in 1856, when the Gardens belonged to a limited liability company, a great hall was erected for the popular concerts of M. Jullien. The idea occurred to several friends that this Music Hall might be utilised for Spurgeon's services, but when this was suggested to others they at once opposed as impious the thought of preaching the Gospel in a place which was a mere temple of worldly amusement. If Mr. Spurgeon and certain of his friends did not see things in such a light, it was because they were innovators who were before their time. As Christians they were aggressive in a sense which many of those whose co-operation they desired were altogether unable to understand. The idea of giving the Gospel to people in halls, theatres, or similar places, was new, and was far from being universally accepted. Mr. Spurgeon was quite free from such prejudices; he would take his message anywhere, feeling that it was everywhere alike wanted. It is true that in after years the Music Hall was forsaken because it was to be used as a place of amusement on Sunday nights, but that was because the congregation should not seem to support a management which wantonly profaned the Sabbath.

Before it was finally decided to hire the great Music Hall, Mr. Spurgeon and his friend William Olney went to look over the building, and both being impressed with the immense size of the structure, they could not help thinking that it was a somewhat hazardous thing to open such a place to the crowd for religious services on the Sabbath. Nothing of the kind had ever before been attempted, for the largest audiences ever addressed by Wesley and Whitefield had been in the open air, because no buildings were large enough to contain them. In this instance the pastor and his friend found a building of which the seating capacity does not appear ever really to have been measured, though if it be said that over twelve thousand persons could be accommodated, the statement is probably quite within the truth. As the two looked over the vast area, and then glanced upward at the three great galleries, they might well have some misgivings as to the propriety of trying an experiment of which no one could prophesy what the outcome might be. At the same time, both the preacher and his faithful friend were reassured by the thought that it would be a glorious thing to preach the Everlasting Gospel to twelve thousand or more at one time; and, putting their trust in God, they resolved to go forward. Those who rejoiced at the prospect of what was about to be done, and those who regarded the great enterprise with misgiving, prayed together for its success. Sunday evening, October 19, was the time fixed for the first service. When the news went through London that Spurgeon was to hold Sunday services in the hall in which M. Jullien, with his great band and opera "stars," had entertained the multitude of pleasure-seekers, expectation ran high, and probably the desire to be present at the service on the part of the common people was such as had never been equalled. People, from children upwards, of every social grade seemed to be desirous to attend. Even in the afternoon of that memorable autumn day, and almost before the shades of evening had begun to fall, the streets leading to the Gardens began to be thronged with people. When Mr. Spurgeon himself arrived, the sight of the people for the time unnerved him; and certainly it was enough to make even a strong man feel sick and faint to find himself the hero of such an occasion. For a considerable distance away the streets appeared to be alive with streams of people, while the entrance-road in the Gardens was blocked with a dense crowd which was unable to enter the hall. When the building itself was filled there were still over ten thousand persons in the grounds; and at last the outer gates were closed to keep in check the encroaching multitude in the streets beyond. The doors of the building were opened at six o'clock, and such was the pressure at the doors that in a few minutes the three galleries, the orchestra, and the area were all densely crowded. "Notwithstanding the immense size of the place," says one account, "there was not sufficient room for a dozen more to enter, and when the seats became filled there were some two or three thousand persons who were content to stand in the passages, and there were considerably more on the greensward outside, looking through the windows." In its way the scene was unique; no such congregation had ever before been gathered in any building to hear the Gospel simply preached. Dr. John Campbell, the editor of The British Banner, sat near the pulpit, and he thus wrote of the occasion:—

"The spectacle, of its kind, was one of the most imposing, magnificent, and awful ever presented to the human eye. No adequate idea of it can be conveyed by description; to be understood it must have been seen; and they who beheld it received an impression which no time will ever obliterate. The sight of ten or twelve thousand people, more or fewer, assembled to listen to the Word of the Living God, in such a place, at such a time, and addressed by a man with a voice of such power and compass that the remotest might hear with ease and pleasure, was sufficient to excite intense joy in the hearts of all good men who witnessed it, nor is it extravagant to say that it was enough to wake the attention of the angelic world." A friend who is still living, and who, with his wife, was present on the occasion, says:—

"We reached the place in good time; the building was rapidly filling. We occupied the first gallery, and sat immediately opposite the pulpit; we were not able to sit together. At length, the three galleries were not only full but overcrowded, and so was the floor of the building. The thought came to me and my wife also that the walls of the building were subject to such a degree of pressure as to render their collapse a probability. We both, without concert, determined, as soon as the service should be quietly proceeding, to leave the building."

If any such thoughts had possession of other minds, the getting up of a panic by thieves for their own purposes was a comparatively easy thing. All began in a promising manner. The preacher, who had recovered from the faintness and sickness which had come upon him, appeared to be quite himself. He opened with a few appropriate words; reading of Scripture and a hymn followed. "There was no dry disquisition, no curious criticism," adds Dr. Campbell, "but an address directed to the hearts of the hearers, showing from the first that the speaker came strongly intent upon most important business, and that nothing was to be regarded short of its accomplishment. The general prayer next followed; and here, too, the same pertinent and peculiar air was manifested. The one great thing which animated the preacher was most obviously the salvation of men."

It was just after the commencement of the general prayer that the conspirators, who had so skilfully prepared their mine, saw that their opportunity had come. It seemed as though well-instructed agents were stationed in various parts of the hall, each section carrying out its own allotted part of the programme. At all events, just after Mr. Spurgeon had commenced his prayer there was suddenly heard from one quarter a cry of "Fire!" In another part a different cry was taken up—"The galleries are giving way!" Then from another part was heard another cry in tones of assumed terror—"The place is falling!" The scene which at once followed was such as will never be adequately described. Mr. R. J. Curtis, already mentioned, says that "immediately there was a hurried and disordered rush from all parts of the building, especially from the upper galleries. I very soon left, and on reaching the landing and moving towards the stairs—not to go down, but to look—someone, fearing that I was rushing into danger, pulled me back. While standing there, the people in terror rushed on like a resistless wave, the forward portion of which rolled over the banisters, and was precipitated to the bottom of the stairs." The manner in which some jumped from dangerous heights, in order to escape imaginary danger, was unaccountable. I know of one gentleman who sat in one of the galleries, and who, seeing that there was no cause for alarm, did his utmost to reassure a lady who happened to be sitting next to him. His endeavours were fruitless, however; for the woman, beside herself with terror, sprang from her seat, and jumped into the area, to break both of her legs, leaving a shawl in the hand of the friend who would have held her back. The frenzy of this woman was typical of the uncontrollable fright of others, which in a number of instances resulted in death and broken limbs. The rush from the galleries to the staircases was such that the banisters gave way, and what was hoped would prove ways of escape at once became fearful pitfalls of death.

Describing the height of the commotion a few minutes after the conspirators had fired their mine, a contemporary account says:—

"The cries and shrieks at this period were truly terrific, to which was added the already pent-up excitement of those who had not been able to make their exit. They pressed on, treading furiously over the dead and dying, tearing frantically at each other. Hundreds had their clothes torn from their backs in their endeavours to escape; masses of men and women were driven down and trodden over heedless of their cries and lamentations; men appeared not to care for women, and women appeared equally callous of their own sex, one object only appearing to fill the mind of all—that of self-preservation. Some climbed over the galleries and dropped upon the heads of those below. All this time the pressure from those behind became greater and greater; many who would not otherwise have been injured were crushed by the surrounding multitude. Women, and even strong men, fainted, dropped upon the floor, and were trodden over by those following them.

"Notwithstanding the number that had fallen from the gallery, the crowd still pressed on to the staircases, and had it not been for the providential circumstance that there was an iron pillar supporting the end of the gallery, the loss of life must have been most awful. While this scene of devastation and terror was proceeding at the north-west end of the building, similar horrors were being enacted at all other outlets.

"As soon as the shrieks of the unfortunate creatures who were suffering in the inside were heard by those who had obtained ingress into the gardens, but could not obtain admission into the hall, they made a desperate rush for the outer gates; but by a strange arrangement they could find no means of getting outside the gates, they having been firmly closed to prevent the great crowd, which had been outside all the evening, from entering the gardens. Men, women, and children climbed, were drawn and thrown over the iron railings, many of them being seriously injured in consequence. As soon as it was known by those outside that a terrible accident had occurred, the wildest rumours prevailed. Some asserted that the entire building had fallen in, burying all beneath; others that the galleries had given way, carrying their occupants upon those below. Then the most fearful excitement prevailed outside. Fathers, whose wives and daughters were in the building; mothers, whose children were there; and in fact every person who knew of a relative of any kind that had gained admission, raised their wildest lamentations for those who they believed were lost to them for ever.

"By this time the greater portion of the audience had escaped from the hall, and of course with all precipitancy made for the street. Those who had been fortunate enough to escape without injury assisted in bringing out their more unfortunate friends and companions, which at once realised the fact of the sad calamity to those outside, who, as quickly as possible, made their way toward the building for the purpose of seeking their relatives and friends. All those who had the power to do so had left the hall, and only the dead, dying, and wounded were to be seen." My friend Mr. E. J. Curtis communicates a description of the scene inside the building and nearer the pulpit as it appeared to him:—"After a short time I returned to my seat and remained till nearly the close of the service. During the uproar occasioned by the causeless cry of 'Fire!' Mr. Spurgeon retained perfect self-possession, and to allay the panic vociferated, 'Take care of your pockets!' His text on the occasion—no doubt impromptu—was the words, 'The curse of the Lord is in the house of the wicked' (Pro 3:33). The sermon was to the point, and as effectively delivered as on the most auspicious occasion. He was not aware of the cruel consequences of the false alarm till after the service. On leaving the place we saw at the bottom of the stairs a large pool of blood partially covered by a carpet." This is identical with the view taken by the leading journal so far as the preaching is concerned:—"The preacher kept his place, preaching, praying, and giving out psalms; the surviving congregation returned to their seats, the boxes for the new chapel were rattled about, and the service concluded almost as if nothing had happened." The truth is, nevertheless, that Mr. Spurgeon did not even attempt to give a sermon until calls of "Preach! preach!" from different quarters of the hall prompted him to do so; and it has to be remembered that the preacher and those around him in the vicinity of the pulpit knew nothing of what was really happening in distant parts of the building. A pretty full account of what Mr. Spurgeon actually said was given in the denominational newspaper. The preacher desired that the people should retire while a hymn was being sung; but the vast majority of the congregation, who knew nothing of the extent of the calamity at the doors, still cried, "Go on! Preach!"

"My friends, what shall I preach about?" said Mr. Spurgeon. "You bid me preach to-night. I am ready to do all I can, but in the midst of all this confusion what shall be my subject? May God's Holy Spirit give me a subject on this solemn occasion. My friends, there is a terrible day coming, when the terror and alarm of this evening shall be as nothing. That will be a time when the thunder and lightning and blackest darkness shall have their fullest power; when the earth shall reel to and fro beneath us; and when the arches of the solid heavens shall totter to their centre. The day is coming when the clouds shall reveal their wonders and portents, and Christ shall sit upon those clouds in glory, and shall call you to judgment. Many men have gone away to-night in the midst of this terrible confusion, and so shall it be on that great day. I can, however, believe that the results of that day will show that there will be a great many—not a less proportion than those who have left—who will stand the ordeal of that great day. The alarm which has just arisen has been produced in some measure by that instinct which teaches us to seek self-preservation. But in the more numerous of the cases it is not so much the dread of death which has influenced them as the dread of something afterwards—that undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns. 'Tis conscience that makes cowards of us. Many were afraid to stop there, because they thought it was to stop and be damned. They were aware—and many of you are aware, that if you were hurried before your Maker to-night you would be brought there unshriven, unpardoned, and condemned. But what are your terrors now to what they will be on that terrible day of reckoning of the Almighty, when the heaven shall shrink above you and hell open her mouth beneath you? But know you not, my friends, that grace, sovereign grace, can yet save you? Have you never yet heard the welcome news that Jesus came into the world to save sinners? You are the chief among sinners. Believe that Christ died for you and you may be saved from the torments of hell that await yon. Do you not know that you are lost and ruined—that none but Jesus can do the sinner good? You are sick and diseased. Jesus can do you good, and will. I thought this night of preaching from the text, 'The curse of the Lord is in the house of the wicked, but He blesseth the habitation of the just.' I feel that I cannot preach as I wish. You will have another alarm yet, and I would rather that some of you would seek to retire gradually, in order that no harm may be done. My text will be found in the 3rd chapter of Proverbs, at the 33rd verse."

Something like silence was obtained, but soon the agitation again broke out. "You ask me to preach, but how can I after this terrible scene?" asked Mr. Spurgeon. "My brain is in a whirl, and I scarcely know where I am, so great are my apprehensions that many persons must have been injured by rushing out." The hymn, "His sovereign power without our aid," was then sung, and the congregation was urged to retire quietly. As regards the effect of the panic on the preacher himself, several accounts were given. According to one he was carried senseless from the pulpit; but the truth seems to be that the service was brought to a close when the worst was known. In the words of one chronicler, "Mr. Spurgeon commenced his sermon by observing that he could not, of course, after such an occurrence, preach to them as he would wish, but he would preach to them for the usual time if they thought fit to remain." Another remarked, "Mr. Spurgeon's mind during the terrible scene manifested a composure truly astonishing. He seemed in no respect unnerved, but manifested a meek yet resolute determination to proceed; but the thieves, who must have comprised hundreds, continued their noises with such pertinacity as to render it utterly hopeless. Mr. Spurgeon then intimated that the meeting would dissolve, and exhorted the immense multitude to withdraw slowly."

Seven persons were killed, while a larger number were injured. In regard to the originators of the panic, an inspector of police who was present expressed the opinion that the mischief had not been occasioned by thieves. It was rather thought that certain enemies of Mr. Spurgeon had merely resolved to cause him some annoyance.